Scrapshots: An Inazuma Eleven One-shot Collection
by Mary Seph
Summary: Various characters. Rated K for mild swearing. Inspired by other animes, personal headcanons, or what-ifs. Basically stories I would like to read.
1. The Adventure of The Fubuki Triplets

"What the hell's going on here?"

"Just as I said Someoka-kun. We turned into kids." Fubuki answered, with no trace of doubt of fear.

"That's why I'm askin'... HOW THE HELL DID YOU GUYS TURNED INTO BRATS?" A vein popped in Someoka's tanned forehead. "And why are there three of you?!"

"Don't sweat the small details and let us stay the night." Atsuya said after uncovering his ears.

"We don't have other place to stay." Fubuki Kuro said matter-of-factly.

"I don't mind, but who are you?" Someoka had given up understanding the situation and proceded to ask about the existence of the third Fubuki sibling.

"I'm Fubuki Kuro. Nice to meet'cha." He lifted his small palm and gave a smooth nod. Kuro's lazy-like eyes were enough to form a first and accurate impression.

This guy is gonna pain to deal with.

He was used to Atsuya's fiery attitude and Fubuki's chill one, but this one was in a whole other level of chill-one Someoka wasn't good with.

He made way for the three boys before the ran inside, the new sibling staggering, his legs had turned into spaghetti. The slow motion caused Someoka to feel the world around him just as slow.

What's with this guy?

He already had a bad day, no need to rack his brain understand what cannot be understood.

"You guys hungry? I just came from the convinience store."

He gave one last look outside, the day was ending. His friendship with the he siblings was important, he wasn't so heartless as to chase them away-no matter how weird they looked.

Fubuki had made himself comfortable in the sofa, had found the controller and turned on the TV and was watching the winter tournament. He wouldn't come back to reality anytime soon.

The other two were nowhere in sight.

"Fubuki?"

"Huh?" He answered without glancing from the screen.

"Where's Atsuya and the other?"

"Dunno."

Someoka grumbled to himself, they better not be on his room or messing around.

"Is it okay for us to be here?!" He heard Fubuki ask. Someka had checked the kitchen beside the living room, and the bathroom-after knocking of course.

He almost slapped himself, it was his house.

"My parents are away. A trip to Kyoto, bussiness!" Hopefully Fubuki heard him.

First floor, check.

He made the smart decision of hearing his surroundings, small steps came from upstairs.

They are so dead.

I have to make dinner soon, Someoka thought. The clock was would soon point seven.

"Atsuya, Kuro. Manners." Small Fubuki puffed his cheeks. His body may have shrunk, but his mind was still one of a fourteen-year old; at least as far as Atsuya as Kuro knew.

He looks cute though, the three thought.

Atsuya and Kuro kneeled and apologized.

"I didn't know you had that on your room though," Atsuya whispered hiding a snicker.

"He's a guy Aniki. You don't even have the guts to open one." Kuro said.

"If a word goes to the team, you three are dead."

"But I didn't do anything!" Fubuki chirped.

"I don't care! It's late, you guys place the table."

"You know how to cook?! That's so cool!"

"I'm an only child and I'm sick of bentos."

"But convini bentos are the best," Kuro said.

Someoka had found him playing on one of his hand-held consoles, he wasn't much of a gamer but this one totally gave the vibes.

Kuro locked his sleepy-looking eyes with Someoka and cocked his head aside.

"Something in my face dude?"

How old did they look? Eight? Nine? The bizarre sight made his stomach churn. To him he was just a brat who tried to act cool.

"Who are you?"

He had to protect the house, though if he's their sibling he couldn't a burglar or killer or someone suspicious.

"Fubuki Kuro! I told you already!"

Someoka was going to ask where did he came out from, neither Fubuki or Atsuya had given him and explanation. But as he opened his mouth he choked, like a hand wrapped around inside of his throat.

Better not ask then.

"This ish great!"

"Atsuya you're spitting the food."

"No good Aniki, food is important. "

Dinner consisted of steamed potatoes, fish, salad and of course rice. The twins-I mean triplets digged in happily, flushed cheeks make Someoka proud of his skills.

"Marry me Someoka."

"The hell?"

He would have shrugged it off as a joke if it came from his two friends, but this foreign entity was acting as if they'd know each other for years. Someoka didn't react.

By the time they finshed an hour had passed.

"Oh, that's right. Someoka, that's weird." Atsuya pointed at a photoframe at the other side of the room. It was picture of a younger self-like the size of the three-and his father, big smiles and cheerful. Young Someoka held a soccer ball wearing the uniform of his elementary school team.

"You have a problem that smile?" He warned Atsuya with a look, if he said the wrong thing the consequences wouldn't be good.

"Not at all, but in your room there was another one and you looked pretty down."

Oh, that. It was in a high spot on his bookshelf, though it wasn't unreachable he wasn't compelled to hide it. In the past it was a constant reminder he wasn't good enough, motivating to push himself and train harder.

"It's just an old photo. Forget it."

It's not like he was adamant in hiding it. So when Atsuya and Kuro insisted he told him the story behind it.

"I told you I started playing in elementary school, right? Well, I never played in any match. Seems my teammates were too scared of me and I practised shoots by myself. I really sucked."

"So you were a loner with a bad temper. I can see that." Fubuki shusshed him with a light smack and apologized on his behalf, but Someoka shrugged it off.

"I don't mind, it was just an incentive. But it's all in the past."

"I'll do the dishes," said Kuro.

"No can do, you're a guest."

"I know you don't trust me. It's the least I can do."

After putting away the dishes Someoka walked to the second floor. The bath should be ready by now.

"I CAN'T REACH THE SINK!"

Someoka's face contornted. So much for doing a favor.

"Let's play trump!"

After a bath, the four were in Someka's bedroom in pajamas. The triplets had to make do with L shirts he rarely used.

Atsuya waved the deck of cards and shuffled them with little difficulty, his small hands barely hanging from the cuffs. The sleeves were too heavy for his arms to shuffle as usual.

Nevertheless, Someoka noticed he knew the drill.

"Did you work in a casino or something?"

"He just wanted to learn that." Fubuki answered instead, laughing at his brother's childness.

"Hurry up Aniki I'm getting bored." The youngest sibling's head rested on the table, bored. His concentration flew away, he was dozing off.

The night proceded to be noisy, with Atsuya complaining after lossing each round, accusing of plotting together against him.

"Someoka-kun? You awake?"

Someoka turned to meet Fubuki gaze. The other two were snoring.

"What's wrong?"

"I just can't sleep."

"Me neither."

They stood up and Someoka motioned to the balcony, opposite to the door. After he closed the sliding door Fubuki asked in a small voice.

"Are we really not a bother? You looked angrier than usual. Kuro might be annoying-"

"It's not that Fubuki. Certainly not that."

"Then?"

Someoka wanted to deny it, but Fubuki would persist, he knew him that well. He couldn't stop remembering his past.

"It's hard to believe. Only a few months ago our soccer team was so close to be . Then we managed to win the preliminaries and Nationals before fighting with aliens, though they were just like us. It's just. . ."

Someoka scratched his head, he couldn't put into words his feelings, he was never good at it. Even so this time he tried this time.

"It's like living a dream, it doesn't feel real at all. I wonder if one day I'll wake up and return to how things were before."

"I understand. Things were so hectic."

"So how did you guys. . . Y'know."

"Ah,this? We just came to visit when we stumbled upon a lady that wanted to tell s our fortune, but Atsuya scared her and she cursed us. . . Literally."

"And Kuro?" He didn't know what answer Fubuki would give, he swallowed and waited.

"We found him on the way here. Atsuya said he didn't smell funny so we let him come along."

Someoka didn't know whom should he reprimand-Fubuki for believing his brother blindly or Atsuya for acting like an animal.

"So how-"

There was something weird. Fubuki's eyes weren't there a second ago, he lifted his gaze a little and saw him blinking. Fubuki turned to the reflecting glass and noticed the same.

"Oh. Yay."

"Huh? Why?"

"Umm, maybe because I was honest?"

"So if we get those two to do the same they'll turn back."

"Yup."

They returned to the chilly room. Fubuki changed to his usual clothes while they heard Atsuya's mumbling.

"Who are you calling weak? I'll teach you who's weak fire head!"

Fubuki looked at his brother smiling wryly.

"What are you looking Someka? People won't noticed how much of a nice guy you are if you growl at everyone."

So Atsuya did had cared about people's feelings? Neither knew how to react.

"Salmon head."

Fubuki wrapped his arms around Someoka's torso, he was ready to stomp his head.

But at least Atsuya he was to his normal size. Fubuki sighed in relief.

What a night.

Morning came peering down the window, the light heated Kuro's eyes forced to wake.

He wobbled to a sitting position, before his body fell face-first asking for more sleep. His hands pushed him up, anyone who saw him would've though he had invented some kind of push-up.

Getting a hold of himself, Kuro walked to the washroom and splashed some water.

"Okay, I'm awake."

His thoughts wandered to his new friend. He did make him lost his cool last night-more than Atsuya.

He liked the guy-he had games-so Kuro thought of another way of paying back his kindness. He snapped his fingers and grinned quite devilish-ly.

He tipped-toed across the hall and opened the door slightly to make less noise as possible.

"W-what?"

His brothers had returned to normal overnight but Kuro's height hadn't changed the slightless.

Shirou had his arm streched as if he was punching Someoka's face, who slept with furrowed eyebrows.

Kuro cupped his mouth, leaning on the outside wall.

He had to see his Aniki. He might lose it though. It was the first time Kuro wished he had cellphone to capture this scene.

He peered the door's gap, Atsuya was a little farther. The door creaked from a slight push making Someoka snore and Kuro flinch like a cat.

There he was, in the far side from the door at the left Atsuya legs formed a four. His bare foot just on top of Shirou's head while one of his arm was lifted over his head.

Kuro lost it, falling on his knees and laughing his heart out bringing everyone out of cloud nine.

Three angry sleepy people.

"Thanks Someoka-kun."

"Come whenever you like."

"Really?! I'll gladly take om the offer."

"Atsuya, don't live up by people's kindness."

"Why are you three acting so chummy. There's still a big problem!"

Kuro flailed his arms, showing his short stature.

"Isn't the curse lifted is one said the truth, right Shirou?"

"What kind of truth could I say?"

"Now that I think about what did I said?"

"Don't bring that up Atsuya."

"I'll stay like this I don't care anymore. Can I come again?"

Someoka eyed him, "sure."

"Yes! It was great to meet you dude. Best day ever."

Kuro lifted a clenched hand. Someoka returned the gesture. Their knuckles bumped in a straight line.

"Great! I'm back!"

"Put some pants on first!"


	2. A Day in the RPG World

"It's hot, Shirou."

"Atsuya stop complaining."

"I can't help it it's hot."

"Shut up."

With the blazing heat of the desert the twin's quarrel was more annoying than usual. If only Atsuya took off his scarf maybe the he wouldn't be complaining so much.

Silence fell between the four adventurers.

"It's hot."

Three veins popped at Atsuya's whisper, the temptation to take extreme measures—knocking him out— was great, but someone would have to lift the dead weight.

Kidou supported his body with his staff, moving his tired legs forward. Only one kilometer left to reach the town, he thought. If only the Barbarian class twin hadn't lost control over himself they shouldn't be at death's door, again. Even his brother was in the same state—very unusual for him.

"Hey, Shirou." Atsuya called. "Can't you like . . . transport us to the town or something . . . ? Or cast a spell to and make it rain?" A smart proposal coming from him—seems the heat messed up his brain.

"I used the rest of my mana to transport you closer to us," he muttered.

"Okay."

With a lot of perseverance— and Atsuya's complains—they arrived to the small town that served as their base. As the sky dyed in orange and soon in darker tones they crawled to the bank to exchange their loot for a well-deserved pay . . . which wasn't much.

This was the daily of these four adventurers.

"Hi, Endou." Kidou greeted.

"Yo, guys." Endou covered his mouth and nose, either to control his laughter or repel the smell, and muffled: "The bath is empty, so help yourselves."

The adventurers enjoyed a bath after a long day of fighting monsters and receiving little money for the efforts.

"How long do we have to keep this up?!" Atsuya yelled to no one. It happened so frequently the other three had gotten used to. "I hate bein' covered in slime every day."

"Don't remind me Atsuya," Fubuki grumbled, his voice bubbled in the hot water.

Kidou proceeded to change the topic. "One of us needs to reach level 2 before we can buy a building for the guild, we have to consider costs too."

"Gouenji, you should work more!" Atsuya point said person. "You have more XP than us!"

"I would if someone a.k.a. you wouldn't break the formation." He glared. After he was told the same more times he could count Gouenji finally snapped—who said he was Buddha? His friends knew his hot temper—they were painfully aware about it.

"Atsuya is not the only problem." Kidou was placing the blame on him too. He, as usual was the one who held their Swordsman class friend—Gouenji—with clever words, sharing the blame, and on extreme situations he took it upon himself. Gouenji, noticing this backed down.

The two of them listened to Kidou about his observation on today's fight—Atsuya as much as he could, while Fubuki's relaxed. As the white mage—and healer—he didn't participated much on strategy meetings. His MP was always empty at the end of the day—thanks to a certain reckless brother of his. Kidou being the tactician and Wizard class and him made a good balance with the other two.

But they had a lot of room for improvement.

The next day the group was on the road early in the morning. Their hunting grounds was for themselves. After all who would walk two kilometers away from all civilization? They either had to be desperate or crazy, they agreed might be both.

Maybe as a blessing from the gods that day they encountered a rare prey.

"The hell is that?!" Atsuya said before his brother pulled his over behind a tree and shushed him.

"Captain what do we do?" Fubuki asked in sign language —a must-know for adventurers. "I have never seen it." Atsuya agreed in the same way.

That spells trouble. The twins' parents were monsters researchers, and they had grown hearing all kinds of facts about them. If they didn't know hardly the other two did.

"I don't know it either." Kidou replied likewise and glanced at the unknown creature.

It wasn't very big or menacing—as most monsters were—it was almost... cute, Fubuki thought. It was a small plant-like monster with short tentacles and a happy face emoji, but the bushes where too dense they couldn't see its roots.

The last time he concluded this and walked to a baby chimera he almost lost his head, if it wasn't for Atsuya.

Captain Kidou signaled their sweeper—the one with more self-control.

"Take it away."

After nodding Gouenji stealthily approached the creature until he was spotted, and while alternating between evading and running he lured it outside.

On cue, Kidou and the twins moved out as soon as they were out of sight. While ran Kidou gave quick commands Fubuki chanted some buffs—though he didn't have much on stock—when he finished Kidou and Atsuya were enveloped in a white glow before reaching the end of the forest.

"W-what is that?!" Atsuya yelled.

In front of them was a huge humanoid-like monster, as tall as a bear but as thin as a snake. It flailed its long whip-like arms around—left and right, up and down and when arm met ground it cracked into pieces.

The small plant they had seen sat at the top of its faceless head.

"Slenderman!" Atsuya cried out.

The mythological creature adventurers mentioned to green horns—though it was known far and wide the creature was rarely seen in its full form, described only as a black and thin wriggling monster by fellow adventurers.

It would fetch a good price.

"How long are you going to stand there?!" Gouenji yelled bringing the three into action.

"Gouenji come back!" Kidou was the first to act. He commanded their formation to the twins. Goeunji was running back, evading the snake-like arms when Atsuya helped him out sending a kick to one, buzzing passed him.

"Thanks Fubuki." He nodded after healing Gouenji's minor scars and giving him the same buffs as the others.

Gouenji branded his sword again and helped Atsuya.

On moments like this that they were grateful of each other's company. No matter how much they complained or how miserable times were as long as they had each other's back things will work out.

No one cowered back, or gave a sign of hopelessness. Each, in their own way, faced this legendary monster.

Kidou blinded the creature, giving a chance for Atsuya to smash his fist in its gut with a thunder buff—courtesy of his Barbarian class. It was the creature's weakness—according to Gouenji, who knew a little too much about it. The creature screeched and stopped, his body started to give off a yellow-white glow.

"It's healing!" Gouenji yelled. Kidou cursed, its HP was in the red zone their efforts would be wasted—not to mention they were getting tired—yes, they were reaching their limits.

"Let's attack at once! Hurry!" Fubuki shouted.

The fighters ran to the creature.

"Fire Tornado!" Gouenji jumped, his sword became enveloped in blazing fire. He slashed the sword downwards after spinning clock-wise.

"Eternal Blizzard!" Atsuya spun over his own axis, giving a kick as his frozen foot on the head of the monster.

"Dark Tornado!" From his rod Kidou released a swirling dark energy. Gouenji and Atsuya stepped aside, and the monster—in a daze—received a clean hit.

"FUBUKI!"

"Wolf Legend!" His staff lit up charging white energy in one point and released his remaining MP in a humongous shoot of blinding light exploding in the middle of the creature; giving an end to the long battle.

The creature exploded releasing a terrible stanch of rotten eggs and skunk smell that fell on the four teens—with a little blood.

"Disgusting." Atsuya murmured washing the remains with his hand. "Shirou, you okay? Guess not." He sweat dropped at his fallen twin. The fact that his strongest—and only—attack left his so vulnerable was ironic.

At least we made it, he thought.

The young adventurers returned to the cheap inn. Atsuya carrying his brother on his back brought the terrible stench to the humble building.

"Ugh, Atsuya you smell." Fubuki retorted.

"You too Shirou. I think I'm going barf."

Kidou walked slower than usual. Gouenji noticed he has been looking down for the past hour and asked what his deal was.

He evaded his eyes and said in a clear voice.

"The monster didn't drop anything. We can't claim the money."

"What the? What did you guys found this time?" Asked Endou.

The four shared a glance and replied at the time.

"Slenderman."


	3. Bloody Snow

I am alone. The thought surfaced quietly, like an alligator pulling up to the surface, breaking the impeccable flatness of water. It gazed straight at him, numbing his senses, freezing him on the spot by the news of his deceased family.

You were pushed off the car, that's why you were the only who survived, Fubuki-kun.

Why, how did this happened? He must reach an answer.

In his mind, he replayed over and over. Monotonously, unconsciously. He recalled the day before hearing those words.

His brother was at his side, while parents in front were conversing about the recent match. Smiles, cheers, congratulations for a complete victory. Then, the whiteness, eager to swallow them. His heart jumped. He didn't screamed.

If he had would they be alive?

He remembered a hand, and a scream-it all happened too fast.

Regret, despair, sadness, his mind couldn't pinpoint any. As if the concepts had abandoned his comprehension. The world was dull, unmoving, colorless. Tears didn't fall.

Yet another thought lurked after the constant repetition. _The hand, pushed off the car, by his side, Atsuya._

It made sense.

Why? Did you leave me? What can the defense do if there is no one to attack? Without you. . . I can't be perfect.

Atsuya.

His uncle and wife adopted him, yet he couldn't accept them. His family was those three. The memories were too precious. Family is everything for a nine-year-old. He clung tightly, oh so tightly to the past.

Uncle and Aunt welcomed him with open arms, to the couple having a child was a blessing. Living near the Fubuki's the environment was almost the same. His meals were warm, their smiles were also warm, his family's bodies were cold.

A year was no different like a day. Throughout this time the couple reached their emotional limit; receiving blank stares and one-liners daily. The reward of a whole year's effort.

His ears couldn't hear and his brain couldn't comprehend. He was observing life as a spectator, unthinking, unfeeling, inactive.

Fubuki was at the age where children stubbornly refuse help. They wanted to find a place in the world. Aunt and Uncle set their sights and worries and love in their soon-to-be-born child.

In junior high Fubuki was the same. Days passed with him looking out of the window, his mind blank as a forgotten canvas. As if the painter couldn't find inspiration and died by his own accord.

He was empty.

The essence of Shirou was lost, it dissapeared quietly like a minuendo. Neither a smile or grimace curved his lips. Memories were foggy as if he was watching a never ending movie in an old screen.

He was waiting for the bus when a soccer ball bumped into his feet, it surely was a sign, a soft whisper to return to the old self. To return to soccer.

He took it with both hands and stared at the ball, no fathomable expression or emotion on his countenance.

A pair of children waived at him, asking to give the ball back. They seemed to be brothers, similar jet black hair, and eyes.

Instinctively, he let it fall and kicked it. Then. . .

 _Atsuya._

He arrived home and yelled his brother name.

"Atsuya! Where are you? Atsuya! Atsuya! Atsuya!"

"Can you just shut up?! The baby will wake up!"

The newborn's cries were heard amidst Fubuki's despair. His aunt sighed and walked up the stairs, massaging her temples.

"Now look at what you've done," she whispered, "creepy kid."

Fubuki trotted to his room, his backpack was left at the threshold downstairs. Atsuya wasn't anywhere. Atsuya was gone.

Silent tears pecked on his face and fell after years of absence. He did his best to clean them, but there was no reason to stop. Pain took the form of tears and left Fubuki crouching and sobbing, he wailed at the loss of his family, his dear brother and parents.

I'm useless without Atsuya, I can't do anything. Why did survived? Why am I here?

No. . . I didn't survive. I'm just lost. They are alive.

Fubuki couldn't hear the sound of breaking glass.

Yeah, I remember. I fell out of the car and wandered until I reached another city. I'm living with a couple that found me.

I must go.

He changed out his uniform and left the house without a word. A smile was painted on his face but. . . it was odd. It wasn't Fubuki Shirou's smile; he wasn't Shirou after all. Then who was he?

He walked along the sidewalk where he lost everything, including himself; looming at the outskirts of the mountain as his feet led him to Destiny. The path was built after an accident where a man with a broken motorcycle was heavily injured.

His family was there. They were calling him, right there down the slope.

I'm coming. Dad, Mom, Atsuya.

He steadied himself on the rail facing the abyss and glanced down. They were waving between the leaves.

A breeze pushed him forward causing him to lose footing, which he gladly gave up.

His body swayed with the wind like a weightless doll, his smile widen before gravity pulled his head.

He laid on the ground, snowflakes fell on his cheeks, melting and falling like tears. The compressed snow outlined a gentle pair of wings. Fubuki loved snow angels.

His consciousness faded away; his eyes closed.

The symphony had ended.

Fubuki wasn't alone anymore.


	4. God of Victory

I have no memory of my parents. Only stray, vague flashes come to mind. As if I was reading pages of different books, they made no sense but rose a warm sensation in my chest.

I started playing soccer to feel closer to the father I lost. I figured if I kicked the ball, I would somehow understand what he was thinking while skimming through that old soccer magazine, the only memento he left-after years, I wonder if Dad had a passion for the sport in the first place. Nevertheless, as if the ball was our connection, I kicked and kicked day and night by myself. It was both my stress reliever and hobby, my little secret.

Until it wasn't a secret anymore. Their eyes were on me, and I was praised for my talent.

I kept playing to please those that harbored high expectations from me, especially my sister. There wasn't much to do in the orphanage, and kicking the ball made time move faster and my mind drift off, sharp the senses and adrenaline flow in my veins. Fighting Haruna's bullies was easier since then.

I kicked the ball without a worry of the future.

When a man wearing sunglasses came and requested a match between the other kids, my mind whispered something might start and a bead of cold sweat ran on my back. I was as at a loss like the rest. The reason he appeared at our orphanage was beyond me but when the chance of playing soccer presented, I played with my all, Haruna cheering not so far from the improvised field.

After the match, I was singled out from the group and was told I had what the man in sunglasses was looking for. The exact words buried after more than half a decade of memories.

The deal was, if I chose to, I would be adopted by a family called Kidou, no siblings, and I could play soccer as much as I want. And when I had the age, I would go to the middle school the dark-clothed man owned and become they best player in the world.

While I was thinking over, balancing the pros and cons and searching to refuse-not that I wanted to, the opportunity was as once in a lifetime, I knew, but just to be careful-a young couple visited and took a liking to Haruna. I was overcome with rage and confusion. We weren't animals in a pound, where people can come and take us whenever they want.

As if reading my thoughts, the couple revealed their concern of separating us, because of reasons that were beyond my very young self, only one will leave. I told Haruna she should go with them. They were kind. I would go to the Kidou's and she to the Otonashi's and we would meet again. With my biggest worry of leaving Haruna alone, I could train soccer without shame.

I learned the man with sunglasses was called Kageyama. He was clear about the trials I would face and that I wasn't allowed to fail. Repeating the words over and over on the way to the Kidou household, I hugged the soccer ball tight and cried. Aware it was the last time I could display weakness.

Kageyama-san's training was demanding. If I didn't have enough conviction, I found it there. I absorbed his teachings, each letter committed to memory. I was convinced he wanted to make of me the best, and everything he did-long hours of coaching, incomprehensible orders as I laid on the ground, unable to muscle, sure if I closed my eyes I wouldn't wake up-were for a reason. I got up as soon as I fell, swallowing tears and cleaning the sweat off my forehead. Absolute victory, power, analysis, hide emotions, poker face, those were the mantras I got from him.

Adding to my responsibilities as a Kidou, first place academics were less than obligation but a requirement. Every day was a trial to reach perfection.

Soon, I forgot the reason I was kicking the ball in the first place. The ambition to be and remain at the top became my goal, and Kageyama was my guide, the god-the guide to the victory to fulfill my duty-in a metaphorical sense, as the definition falls short.

Gazing at Kageyama-san's unyielding posture, I thought hearing words of encouragement that may pass as orders. Over and over I stood up, cleaned my forehead and kicked the ball. For the one that bet on me.

I adored Kageyama as the man who gave me the chance to play against strong opponents. As time passed, unable to notice, like sipping a nice cup of tea, I couldn't call that sensation in my chest respect or admiration anymore. I enjoyed training under him too much. With a word, the surroundings seemed a little brighter, a clever trick my brain played, but my chest was filled with the increasing beating of my heart. Instead of seeing him as a master, he was something closer to me, and the only one whom I could confide. It was the first time I wanted to ask him why did I have to be a Kidou, not a Kageyama. If it was he who wanted me why was our distance so great?

Embarrassing. The thought was so embarrassing. It took one or two years to learn how to hide that feeling. On the other hand, I never forgot about Haruna. Controlling my facial muscles, I regulated my thought process, so as to not let those worries show.

That was my life with Kageyama until he became the Commander. It sounded odd, like being called Kidou shortly after the adoption papers were signed. But soon the word was engrained in my mind that I was able to forget his real name from time to time.

The thought of standing by his side wasn't very appealing. As long as I was to execute his order as he expected me too... it was all I wished. I would lead Teikoku to the top, no matter what it takes. Even if I'm hated or criticized, I cannot waver.

Even as of know, seven years after I met him, I reminisce about the past. A somewhat lonely, but yet dear moments, the sweat down my forehead, his orders, the ground and a hint of a smile. Will I ever be able to repay for his kindness? Maybe it's impossible, even if Teikoku remains at the top during my time, or if I take over his seat when he passes away and take over his will. But it's a debt that time cannot wash away, a delusion of mine as I catch possibilities that fly in my mind, only to let them go for one reason or another, to justify this naïve feeling I don't know whether to call devotion or puppy love.


	5. Always By Your Side (Christmas Fic)

Kira Hiroto made a habit of sneaking into Earth the twenty-fifth day of the twelfth month to visit his living family. Heaven had too many rules, and it was boring as hell. Setting foot at the entrance of the large Japanese-style house, he announced his entrance as he invited himself in.

Hiroto peeked inside the guest room, a vast area where his father usually sipped tea as he gazed at the yard. Hyoudo-san used to tell him and sister to not enter when his father was there by himself. The first time Hiroto disobeyed was after taking this form, and he looked around awkwardly as he caught his father's relaxed figure smiling at the kuchibeni koi fish. He wasn't a cold man as Hiroto used to believe, imparting his wisdom and subtle gestures was his way of showing affection. Nevertheless, he loved him all the same.

The tatami still seemed fresh, giving off a vibrant, healthy green. After the remodeling to change a few rotten logs, nothing much had changed from his last visit.

"He's not here," Hiroto said as he stood in the middle of the vacant room. The irori was clean and the shogi was closed. So neither his father or siste had been here the whole day.

Hiroto then went to the kitchen, finding it also deserted. He frowned. After investigating the cupboards and fridge, he concluded his family hadn't suffered a tragedy and sighed, both in relief and frustration. That didn't answer his main question of their whereabouts.

If Hyoudo-san, the servant who has taken care of him as his sister for years, wasn't around, his father must have dismissed her for the day. She was well past her prime, but she rarely took a day off sick after his mother's passing.

Hiroto threw himself on the kitchen floor, slumping against the bottom cupboards. "So they went out for dinner, huh?"

He walked back to the previous room, eyes falling on a small Shinto shrine hanging from the wall. He looked away, shaking his head as his conscious was about to touch the events of the accident. It was long over. He had redeemed himself. Mellowed down. He shouldn't be thinking about those things in Christmas. _Or ever_.

Knowing his family was okay, Hiroto went to the outer corridor when his eyes caught a framed picture on top of the furniture.

"Huh? This wasn't here." Hiroto approached the frame, standing on his tiptoes to peer in.

There was a group picture of children between four and ten with happy grins and beaming faces surrounding his smiling father, looking at the camera's direction.

Hiroto's eyes set on the letters on the top left before he bolted out of the house, pulling the address out of his vague memories with a bitter expression. His sister had mentioned that name, though he hadn't paid much attention. He wasn't interested in philanthropy.

The building's name was Ohisama En.

He crashed into the orphanage from the ceiling, past wood and bricks-being weightless and transparent had its perks-and stopped short when he almost crashed against the floor.

Hiroto glared around the room, his image giving off a bleak light. He forfeited kicking away the scattered toys, crayons, and drawings, evidence of those children's happiness and carefree lives, and trotted aimlessly before reacting to the laughter coming from a nearby room.

Dashing through bedrooms and classrooms, his feet came to a halt after he passed through a wall and a blinding light stroke him.

The room was as big as the dining hall in his house. A long wood table was spread across its length as delicious-looking sweets and plates were set. It was all so bright. Hiroto felt the warmth the space emanated, contrasting the calm ambiance of his house.

The scene heart-wrenching. The energy. The cheers. The laughter. The worse was the sight of his father and sister squished between small children. Children he didn't know. . . no, that wasn't right. He recognized a few from the picture: blue-haired girl, a tall, scrawny boy, and a boy with apparent non-existent eyes.

It was something he couldn't take part in, only gaze from afar.

Hiroto dashed from cursed place. After a few minutes, he placed a hand on a wall, the other on his stomach to hold back the strange feeling that twisted and turned in his adbomen. But Hiroto was unable to endure it, he cried out. At the injustice. The sadness. The loneliness. Humans could move on, but ghost couldn't. He was stuck in this ever-lasting form.

His father had replaced him. He had forgotten about his son and gave his love to other children.

Hiroto wailed. Normally, his pride wouldn't allow being comforted, but being in a state where hs existence was dubious made him wish someone, _anyone_ , noticed him.

Of course that wouldn't happen. He was dead.

"Hiroto! Hiroto!"

Hiroto gasped and turned towards the voice, cleaning his face as he stood straight with a failure of a frown.

His sister, taller and prettier than the last time he saw her, entered the park as she yelled Hiroto's name.

"Hiro-" Hiroto reached out to her, a gleam of hope shining in his eyes as his call was answered, his hand passing through her clothes.

His sister walked by without giving him a glance, entering deeper into the park.

"Ha...hahaha..." Hiroto chuckled dryly, his face twisting into a grin, rejecting the betrayal he had suffered. He clenched his chest where his heart should be as if it would stop the pain, cleaning the tears in a effort to look strong. It didn't hurt, he chanted. He had too much hope. This ought to happen.

 _But who was she calling out then?_

After Hiroto calmed down, he stalked his sister a few feet behind. He didn't have to hide. And dead or alive he would have done the same. He could do whatever he wanted and no one would notice.

"Ah, there you are, Hiroto." His sister bent beside a tiny red-head on a swing, his back facing Hirot. He circled around the two, witnessing the boy's face illuminated by a street lamp.

His mind instantly froze. The boy's features bore a striking resemblance his own.

He had really been replaced.

"Hiroto, what's wrong?" his sister asked.

Hiroto's mouth opened slightly, his lips quivering.

 _Please stop._

The boy looked up. Downcast, glassy eyes twinkled under the light. The eyes of an innocent child.

"Let's go back." His sister smiled tenderly, showing her pale hand.

 _That's my name._

Before he knew it, his hand was looming over the boy's head, a dark power spreading through his body. It felt good, and his pain had gone away. All he had to do was push him to the ground, and hope he hit his head. It served him right. He wasn't good enough of a replacement. A boy that weak, that sad, wasn't fitting to bear his name.

Say, hadn't Heaven placed a rule in that prohibited visiting living family members? He vaguely understood why.

The faint light around Hiroto's body started dulling, his heart corrupting with the desire of power to destroy. He instinctively knew his holiness and right to return to Heaven would be lost if he went through this. But he didn't care.

"You are different from him."

Hiroto's hand stopped short.

His sister gazed at the boy's direction, her eyes gazing far away.

The boy looked up and tilted his head.

His sister chuckled, shaking her head as if dispelling her thoughts. "Mn, it's nothing. I'm sure there will be a day where I can accept you as my brother."

The boy nodded obediently, walking away hand in hand with his sister.

Hiroto exhaled, the corrupting desire melting away along it, and escorted the two back to the orphanage.

The boy walked timidly to the others, and Hiroto stood beside his sister, his head downcast. He might not like the boy that resembled him and stole his name, but he had calmed down enough to realize that building was the boy's home. He passed a hand through his face as he groaned.

"Dad misses you, you know?"

Hiroto jumped, his head snapping to his sister's direction.

She seemed to be talking to herself, looking at the kids with a strange smile.

He exhaled, stealing a glance from his father. He was handing out presents with other volunteers.

"He couldn't stand your loss. Not after Mom's." His sister looked down, exhaling wistfully. "I'm glad he seems to be getting better." She smiled, then walked to the crowd.

Hiroto observed as they ate dinner, exchanged gifts, and the kids left to their rooms one by one, keeping a firm look on his father for a sign that confirmed his sister's words.

He followed his father as he left the room without a word. The old man was slow, his face grim as he walked to the courtyard.

Snowflakes started drifting and swirling until touching the floor. Hiroto lifted his hand, the snowflakes passing through it. He couldn't feel heat nor warmth, all he had was his memories. He was made of memories.

His father sighed, the dignity and cheer he exuded a few minutes ago were gone without a trace. He looked senile, fragile. Hiroto looked away, unable to bear the pitiful sight of the man he was secretly seeking acknowledgment from. The Kira's had too much pride, and it was strange to show vulnerability to each other.

"My son, why did you leave us?"

Hiroto clenched his teeth, tears prickling in his eyes.

"I wish I-"

"Not even looking at that boy's face has helped to ease the fissure in my heart. Not even bestowing him your name has helped at all!" The man he had once respected fell to his knees, weeping loudly like a child.

Moments ago, he might have rejoiced to hear that boy was in reality an imitation to his father. Hiroto could only muster pity for his old man and that boy who will grow up to become an ideal, not knowing the freedom of being himself.

The boy wasn't a replacement because his family had moved on, but because they couldn't bear the loss.

Hiroto lowered beside his father, snaking an arm behind the man's back, aware of the futility of his actions.

Even so, it's better than nothing. Even if my words won't reach you, it's better than keep them locked in my heart.

"I'll always be by your side, Father. Now and forever."


	6. Red Spider Lily

Sakuma fidgeted on his seat, watching over Kidou's frantic movements around the clubroom as he searched for his missing cape. His jaw was tight, and a bead of sweat slid to the floor.

Sakuma swallowed and looked away.

When his sight locked with Fudou's, he immediately broke eye contact, calling out to Genda and leaving his chair. He imagined Fudou smirking, taunting him as if he had caught him red-handed. He had a way of reading his mind. To be honest, it was disturbing.

Practice ended, and the team members left one by one. Sakuma smiled and waved at Doumen, Henmi, and Narukami before resuming to put away his sweaty soccer uniform and other belongings.

"See you tomorrow, Sakuma," Kidou said with unmasked disappointment. The cape wasn't found.

Sakuma's heart sank, a little voice in the back of his head whispered he was to blame. "Yeah, see you tomorrow." Sakuma plastered a fake smile, not that Kidou would notice. He was so dense with other people's emotions. "I'll lock up so don't worry," he added perkly.

Kidou nodded obediently, closing the door with a dry click.

Sakuma finally relaxed, the strain on his shoulders falling like a mantle of hay as he sighed. He took out the red cloth from his schoolbag. He was torn between Kidou's dejection and his own goodwill. Sakuma just wanted to help.

He checked his work one last time, a stitch in the lower corner of the fabric. He couldn't help being paranoid about the little hole, even if Kidou's reaction was ambivalent. The hole had been almost imperceptible, as big as the tip of his pinky, but Sakuma was able to catch a glimpse of it about a week ago. He had been looking at Kidou's back for quite a while after all.

Sakuma reached for Kidou's locker when a voice made him jump, slamming his back in the locker's cold door.

"Goddamit Fudou, you almost gave me a heart attack!" Sakuma snapped. "Where did you come from?"

"I have been here the whole time," Fudou replied. "Not my fault you were in your fantasies."

"I-I wasn't fantasizing!" Sakuma stuttered, hiding the cape behind him as Fudou set his eyes on it.

"What will Kidou-kun think if he saw you?" Fudou's eyes narrowed. "He was under the weather the whole practice."

"If he finds out, I'll just apologize." Sakuma turned, gripping the locker's handle.

" _'Disgusting.'_ Wouldn't he think that?" Sakuma didn't answer nor moved. Fudou continued, "It's obvious you look up to him, but I didn't think you were this much of a creep."

Sakuma hanged his head, trying to push away Fudou's accusatory words. It wasn't true. _It wasn't true._

"What's wrong with doing something nice for someone?" He chocked out, guilt eating away his excuses for self-justification.

Sakuma heard a snap and turned, finding Fudou with a cellphone in hand pointed towards him.

His thoughts stopped, a wave of hatred swallowing each fragment of rationality and morality, just like his past Shin Teikoku self. Next thing he knew, he was walking towards Fudou, his sole objective snapping that phone in two.

"GIVE ME THAT, FUDOU!" Sakuma yelled, reaching for the flip phone.

"No~" Fudou swiftly moved it behind his back. In the struggle, Fudou slipped it in his pants with a grin. But the chair he was sitting on toppled, bringing Sakuma and him crashing on the floor.

Sakuma grunted, looking up in a daze at Fudou's smirk. His blood boiled, but he had collected himself enough to not put his hand in... there. Instead, he grabbed Fudou's wrists and pinned him to the floor. No matter how strong Fudou was, he was still shorter.

"What do you want, Fudou? Or are you bothering me just for fun?" Sakuma hissed coldly.

"Who knows?" Fudou sang. The asshole was definitely enjoying each second Sakuma was about to lose it. He would love to Koutei Penguin No.1-him right now.

"I'll give you whatever you want if you delete the picture and don't send it to anyone." Sakuma made sure to convey his desperation. He couldn't win against Fudou. He had never won before. He couldn't even prevent him from taking his place around Kidou.

Fudou's snicker echoed in his head, but he didn't care anymore. He couldn't allow the picture to be spread. He would lose his teammate's admiration and Kidou's trust. Sakuma couldn't bear to lose the latter.

"We all know you admire Kidou, but you deny you have feelings for him. That's a lie, isn't it? You like him. Admit it."

The room grew silent after Fudou's words died. Sakuma stared into the brunette's eyes, stormy grey eyes that had gone through so much. They went through the whole Shin Teikoku fiasco together; idiots who listened to the temptation of a rock and a criminal. Perhaps Fudou was curious about love, but he had too much pride to ask. Kidou was ignorant on the topic so it was a process of elimination. Genda hadn't forgiven him.

"I do... I like Kidou, and there's nothing wrong about it," Sakuma finally said, calmly as if he had finally come to terms with it.

To his surprise, Fudou's eyes widened, letting out a bored "I see" before looking away. Was that tint of pink embarrassment? Sakuma smiled, earning a frown from the midfielder.

"I'll let go of your hand, okay?" Sakuma watched as Fudou retrieved the phone and typed, the device slightly tilted towards Sakuma. He freed Fudou's other hand when he confirmed the photo's deletion and stood up without a word, walking towards Kidou's locker and hanging the cape with the utmost care.

"Did you wash it?" Fudou asked.

"No, I didn't have the guts."

"I see."

"What's wrong with you?" Sakuma turned, gazing at Fudou's back.

Sakuma saw hesitation in Fudou's small back, patiently waiting for an answer.

Fudou turned his head slightly. "Nothing."

 _Didn't he think I would confess?_ Sakuma could swear Fudou was hurt. But before he could ask, Fudou left wordlessly.

Sakuma huffed and crossed his arms, a sense of guilt awkwardly setting in his stomach.

"Oh, well. He'll be back to normal tomorrow. It's Fudou after all."

Sakuma held a warm smile. He placed a hand on Kidou's locker, whispering with a softness he was too shy to use with the boy. "I'm sorry, Kidou. I'm always making trouble for you. I wanted to give back to you some way. I couldn't think of another way. I don't need thanks. I'm just happy you are happy."

He took his bag and the clubroom's keys, closing the room as promised.

Kidou had flourished in a tragic environment. Losing his little sister, being betrayed by the man who admired the most, enduring harsh training. He was like a higanbana blooming from a corpse. He was strong, mentally and emotionally. Stronger than him.

 _Love doesn't disappear if it isn't reciprocated. I can keep it alive all by myself and watch over you._


End file.
